


Play House

by figaro



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Age Difference, D/s, Dry Humping, Incest, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-07
Updated: 2011-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-18 04:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/figaro/pseuds/figaro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>De-anon'd kink meme fill. Prompt: Dojima notices that despite his nephew filling in as a big brother for Nanako, he fills in for Dojima's wife as well.<br/>This is more a loose collection of stories than a single, chaptered one, but I figured I might as well collect them in one place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Play House

Ryotaro Dojima liked to think of himself as a rather sharp man—he was a detective after all, and a damn good one at that. He managed to put pieces together to solve cases so quickly it earned him a rain of pats on the shoulder from his colleagues every time, and he squeezed confessions out of suspects with almost graceful skill.

At home, however, he’d been pretty damn thick. Now when he finally realized that, he couldn’t for his life understand how he could not have seen it earlier.

It had begun with small things: the newspaper laying folded, already turned to the local pages, on the table every morning along with a glass of water and the little pill he now took once a day to fight off the beginning of an ulcer; a new toothbrush standing in the little glass on the bathroom sink every third week. Little things he wasn’t used to.

He hadn’t even registered what was going on when Souji had snuck the honorific back in when addressing him; how he more and more often appeared at the door when Dojima came home to welcome him; how a chilled beer can already waited for him on the table when he sunk down on the couch to watch the late news (the TV already set to the right channel when he turned it on.)

It hadn’t been until the evening his nephew offered to give him a foot rub when he sat on the couch, beer can in one hand, remote in the other, that things clicked in Dojima’s head. Souji had not only adopted the role of big brother to Nanako, he’d adopted the role of wife to Dojima.

Dojima had turned the offer down that night, disturbed by the sight of Souji already kneeling by his feet, looking up at him with a small smile and earnest eyes. He’d sent him to bed with a gruff command, telling him his feet were just fine, thank you very much.

That, however, hadn’t deterred Souji, and the offer had been repeated the next evening the moment Nanako had gone to bed, this time catching Dojima off guard. His feet _were_ aching after a long day of walking around town searching for eye witnesses to a robbery, and before he knew it he’d accepted the offer.

It had been heavenly. His nephew had obviously known what he was doing and his slender hands (almost as delicate as a woman’s Dojima had noted, but with longer fingers; stronger) had made Dojima groan in pleasure.

The pink hue in Souji’s cheeks as he’d gotten up and excused himself after he’d finished, mumbling something about homework and paper cranes, had stirred something inside Dojima—a sensation he’d rather not explore lingering in his belly into the late hours of the night, making him twist and turn in his bed for a long time before he’d managed to go to sleep.

Still, the foot rubs had continued, soon followed by shoulder massages and questions if there was something else Souji could do for him: would he like another beer, was he cold, should Souji run a bath for him while he watched the news? And it had all been too pleasant to turn down. Although the uneasiness had taken up constant residence in Dojima’s gut, he’d found himself continue allowing Souji to serve him. It had reminded him of better days, when Chisato was still alive and took loving care of him after long days at work.

She’d never been nearly as subservient though.

Most of Souji’s new little gestures and offerings took place after Nanako’s bedtime, another thing that disturbed Dojima, but at the same time made him grateful. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see her reaction to her big bro sitting by her daddy’s feet or perched behind him. Then again he did notice Souji changing his behavior around her as well; laying out clothes for her in the morning and putting a piece of candy by her plate at dinner time, making boxed lunches for her and telling her when it was time to wash up and go to bed in the evenings. Nanako seemed to accept the changes happily. No wonder, Dojima thought, she must’ve been so fed up with bearing the brunt of keeping everything together at home by then. That was the major reason he let Souji go on.

He kept telling himself so, kept telling himself he’d have to buy the whole package, massages and all, to keep his daughter happy. But it was hard work keeping the lie up, what with Souji constantly on the verge of taking it one step too far, letting his hands linger on Dojima’s neck after he was finished; blushing as he slid his fingers between Dojima’s toes before cracking the joints and rubbing the pads. It ate Dojima from the inside and it angered him—an anger aimed at himself for enjoying it and letting it continue, an anger laced with dirty shame aimed at his nephew for starting it all and being such a goddamn _tease_ about it.

They found themselves alone one evening, with Nanako spending the night at a friend’s house. Dojima sat on the couch with Souji by his feet, a bit drunk from the extra beer he tried to keep himself from having when Nanako was home. He kept glancing down at his nephew, suddenly irked by the submissive display, the anger he kept trying to choke down rising like bile in his throat.

When Souji started to ask him if he wanted his feet taken care of—a ritual they never strayed from, despite Dojima never turning the offer down—he cut him off by grabbing his shoulder and pushing him back. “Why are you doing this, Souji?”

Souji gaped, blinking rapidly as he visibly tried to collect his thoughts. “I… I thought you liked it, Dojima-san.”

“It’s not your job to take care of me!” It came out sharper than Dojima had intended but he found it increasingly hard to hold back and he dug his fingers into Souji’s shoulder hard enough to make him wince.

“N—no, of course not, Dojima-san, but I know how hard you work and I just want to make you f—feel good. Help you relax.” Souji was biting his lip. He looked nervous, a look Dojima had never seen on his face before.

“You’re not my damn wife! Why are you acting like one? ‘Want to make me feel good’?”

“I know I’m not your…your… But you said we’re a family now, the three of us, and I wanted to do my part. If that makes me the wife, then…” He hung his head with a sigh and continued in a whisper, “…Then so be it.”

Dojima watched his nephew closely, noting the blush creeping up his neck, the same way it did when he got aroused while— _Aroused._ Yes, of course he got aroused. Dojima could deny it all he wanted but he knew very well why Souji kept excusing himself and hurry to his room after their little sessions. He’d just not _wanted_ to know that, so he’d shoved it into a dark and dusty corner of his mind.

Because the thought was far too exciting.

Now, with alcohol making his blood rush and his head spin, he found the walls he’d built to keep forbidden thoughts away crumble, his nephew’s words ringing in his ears. He leaned back on the couch again, spreading his thighs wide and grabbing the upholstery tight. “So you _do_ want to act the wife. And you want to make me feel good?”

Souji gave a hesitant nod.

“Then why don’t you do that. Why don’t you come here and make me feel good. It’s a wife’s duty after all, isn’t it?” Before he knew it, he’d slid a hand down to his crotch and grabbed himself through his pants, as if emphasis was even needed.

Souji replied by simply getting up on his knees and shuffling one step forward to settle between Dojima’s legs, and next he knew he had his nephew’s hand on his wrist, pulling his hand to the side, and his lips on his cock, mouthing it through the fabric of his pants and he couldn’t do much else but throw his head back and groan.

It had been years. Dojima hadn’t taken a partner since his wife died—the thought had barely crossed his mind. He’d settled for his right hand, somehow feeling he’d desecrate Chisato’s memory if he shared their bed with someone else. He’d forgotten how _good_ it felt with another person touching his dick. The massages had been one thing, a great thing, but this…this was in a whole ‘nother league and Dojima realized there was no way he’d be able to break things off now. It was too good. It was too late.

“Souji… Take it out.” He let the hand Souji had pulled away settle on his head instead, running fine, gray hair between his fingers, scratching the scalp lightly, as he would a dog.

Souji moaned quietly, rubbing his face against Dojima’s crotch with a warm sigh before starting to work on his belt with deft fingers, soon moving on to the button and zipper of his pants. Once open he slid his fingers under the elastic of the underwear found beneath, pulling up and then sliding them down, carefully making sure the cock springing up didn’t get caught in the fabric. He held the underwear out of the way with one hand while grabbing the ruddy shaft with the other, pulling it upright and running his lips over the head without pausing.

When he lifted his head a moment later and looked up at Dojima his lips were glistening with precome, and the sight made Dojima want to grab the hair in his hand tight and force that slick mouth over his cock, right down to the base. Instead he settled for closing his hand just slightly, enough to hint at what he _could_ do, and pushed lightly. “Suck it.”

When Souji moaned again the situation hit Dojima like a freight train and it turned him on beyond belief. The thought of his nephew acting his wife, taking care of him, servicing him, letting him have his way, made him shudder hard and—all the shame, the knowledge this was beyond wrong, it was _sick,_ firmly pushed aside—he let the fantasy take over. “Yeah, be a good little wife and suck it.”

This time Souji let out a whimper, before parting his lips and taking the head of Dojima’s cock in his mouth, running the flat of his tongue over it and sucking lightly.

“Oh fuck yes, Souji, like that. Now take it deeper.”

Souji obeyed without hesitation. _Good girl_ , Dojima found himself thinking , glad it hadn’t slipped from his mouth as well. Then again, who knew; maybe Souji would love being called a good girl. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t warped already, getting off on sucking his uncle off, pretending to be his wife. _Oh, God._

Souji’s lips wrapped tight around the shaft of Dojima’s cock and slid down, the slick insides of his cheeks following as he sucked hard. He kept his teeth out of the way and didn’t stop until his mouth met the fingers still wrapped around the base. There he stilled, instead working his tongue, letting it slip and slide wherever it could reach, before slowly starting to pull up again, keeping it pressed hard against the underside.

It was obvious this wasn’t his first time tending to a man and the thought made an unexpected tendril of anger wrap tight around Dojima’s chest and squeeze. He meant to comment on it, snap at Souji for being a slut, _something,_ but Souji’s mouth felt far too good for him to be able to voice his anger. Instead he channeled it by tightening his grip in Souji’s hair and pushing his head down again, until his lips pressed hard against his fist. The moan Souji let out vibrated against his skin and made him moan in return. “Shit, that’s it, Souji… Now let go of my cock and show me how much of it you can take.”

He looked on, almost in a daze, as Souji did as he was told, releasing his grip and letting himself be pushed down until the head pressed against the back of his throat. He wasn’t quite there, there was still an inch or two left before he’d have his lips wrapped around the base and his nose buried in pubic hair, but it would have to do. Dojima kept Souji there for a moment, relishing the feeling of _almost_ pushing into Souji’s throat, before easing up and letting his cock slip from Souji’s mouth with a wet ‘pop’. “Good…” he murmured, tilting Souji’s head up with a finger under his chin. “Now tell me where you learned to suck cock.”

Souji’s eyes were hazy as they tried to focus on Dojima’s face, and he was gulping down air, working his mouth as if he was about to speak, but nothing came out.

“Spit it out. As your… husband I’d love to know where those skills come from.” Dojima smiled crookedly.

“I—I…”

Dojima shook Souji’s head lightly, drawing a moan from him. The color in his cheeks had risen dramatically, going from pink to a deep red. “I haven’t got all night, Souji.”

“O—old school,” Souji panted, “classmate.”

So it wasn’t anyone from around here. Dojima felt relief wash over him, the tight feeling around his chest letting up and fading. Still he found himself too curious to just leave off there. “How? Sneaking away between classes for a quickie in the boys’ bathroom? Going down on him in your room as you pretended to study? Sleepovers? I bet he loved it, having your pretty mouth on his cock… Did he return the favor?”

Souji had grabbed Dojima’s thighs, squeezing and relaxing his hands over and over, as if it helped him think, or calm down. “Yes,” he finally said, his voice only wobbling the slightest bit, “all three of those. And no, it was just… just me.”

Dojima snorted. “He never got you off? What a little bastard.”

“No.” Squeeze, relax, squeeze. “He did. Just not with his mouth.”

“Did he fuck you?” The question slipped from Dojima’s mouth before he knew it.

Souji swallowed hard, his eyes glazing over again. “No...” It came out as a moan.

“Has _anyone_ ever fucked you, Souji?”

Souji’s eyes fluttered closed and his head tilted back, exposing the flushed column of his neck. “No, Dojima-san. You’d be the…”

Dojima groaned, wanting Souji’s mouth back on his dick _now_ , the thought of Souji spreading his long legs for him and offer up his virginity, doing his _duty_ , driving him out of his mind. His voice was thick when he managed to speak. “You’d let me fuck you?”

“ _Yes._ Yes, Dojima-san. _Please_.”

It was all he could take. He pushed Souji down again, rubbed his face against his sticky cock while making muttered promises that he would. He’d fuck Souji good, make him come hard, make him never forget it, fuck him like it was their wedding night. And Souji whimpered, lips and tongue sliding over sweat-slick skin, obviously trying to catch Dojima’s cock in his mouth again. After a while Dojima let him, letting up his grip completely and just looking on as Souji managed to suck him back in, taking him as far as he could without being encouraged this time, as far as he could and then a little more, choking on it, so eager Dojima could feel his orgasm start to build in record speed. Would Souji let him come in his mouth? Maybe he wanted it all over his face. Maybe he didn’t want it all. But that wasn’t Dojima’s problem now, was it? He would just have to be a good little wife and take it.

“Make me come, Souji.”

The little tilt of Souji’s head could be interpreted as a yes, his increased administrations definitely so. He worked Dojima’s cock almost desperately; wet, obscene noises filled the room together with choked moans and Dojima’s heavy breathing. Souji took him as deep as he could every time he dipped his head, gagging lightly but never slowing down. The amount of saliva it produced was ridiculous, staining Dojima’s pants and drenching his pubes, trickling down over his balls. He’d never seen anything like it before. It was all so messy and nasty and damn if he didn’t found himself wanting to add to it. When he was about to finally tip over the edge he grabbed Souji by the hair again and tugged him off his cock, held him in place as he jerked himself off with quick, rough strokes, his knuckles smacking against Souji’s already swollen lips over and over before tugging him back a little more and coming with a deep, drawn out groan, painting his nephew’s face in thick streaks of white.

He stared at the sight in front of him. Souji was a total mess: one glob of semen gluing his right eye shut, another hanging from the tip of his nose, with the rest joining the already thick coat of saliva on his lips and chin. His clean eye was locked on Dojima and his mouth hung open, the tip of his tongue trailing his stained bottom lip. His cheeks were still a deep red and his breath came in quick shallow pants and Dojima was pretty sure he’d never seen anyone as debauched before and it was all because…

…All because Souji had apparently imagined playing the role of a wife, serving Dojima and playing his part in the household. And Dojima highly doubted sitting between his drunken uncle’s thighs with his face full of come fitted into that little fantasy.

With a guilty hand he squeezed the last few drops from his cock and wiped it off on his pants before zipping himself back up. Next he sat up straight and once more looked his nephew over.

Souji was still panting, now running fingers over his face, catching every last drop and lapping it up. It was glaringly obvious it all _did_ fit into his fantasy. When Dojima glanced down he could even see a dark stain spreading on the front of Souji’s slacks.

The kid had come in his pants from sucking Dojima off.

A shaky ‘thank you’ made him jerk and look up again.

“Shouldn’t it be me thanking you?”

“Maybe… No… No. Thank you. I hope I… um, did a good job?”

“You felt good, Souji.” Dojima could hardly believe himself when he lifted a hand and patted Souji on the head. He nearly gasped when Souji smiled then and stretched, rubbing against Dojima’s hand. Like a pet.

Then Souji looked down, hanging his head, the smile melting off his face. “I just want to take care of you, Dojima-san,” he mumbled, “Wife or not… I don’t care. Just let me.”

Dojima swallowed hard. He reached down and cupped Souji’s face in his hands and tilted his head back up, searching his eyes. “So you want… this to happen again?”

Souji instantly nodded in his grip.

Images of Souji indeed acting a wife, of Dojima letting him, of him massaging Dojima’s feet after a long day at work, of him ushering Nanako to bed, of Dojima sneaking up behind him and kissing his neck as he stood in the kitchen cooking dinner, of him giving Dojima a messy blowjob on the couch, of him clinging to Dojima and kissing him senseless as Dojima moved deep inside him, gripping his thighs and fucking him to orgasm, of him—

God, they were already halfway there. More than halfway—Souji had served him in a way that was wrong on so many levels Dojima didn’t even bother counting them. Would this actually work? If he turned off his conscience and knowledge of what was right and wrong?

He wanted it; he wanted it so badly he could taste it. But surely he couldn’t?

But who would know...

And he’d missed the warmth of another person close to him for so long.

And Souji was so willing and eager...

Dojima took a deep breath. “Alright.”

The smile he was rewarded with was all he needed to bury his bad conscience. He’d make it work.

oOo


	2. Doggy Style

The foot rubs continued—not followed by spit drenched blowjobs, but still, or maybe _because_ of it, heavily tinged with sexual tension. Of course. More than once Dojima had been sure Souji would take his toes in his mouth as he lifted his foot to his chest and dipped his head while digging his thumbs into the arch and sliding them in small, powerful circles. It never happened though, never came closer than Dojima being able to feel Souji’s quick little breaths against his skin.

No, the foot rubs were chaste in an utterly perverse way. It left them both hard but they kept themselves from taking it further, still trying to ease their way into some sort of relationship where Souji kept attending to Dojima’s needs, as well as Nanako’s, and that sure wasn’t an easy feat, now that Dojima knew what lay beneath Souji’s caring and considerate surface. Not to mention what lay under his own. And so the tension kept building, soon turning paper thin and threatening to rip any second. After every session Souji still excused himself and went upstairs and more than once Dojima jerked off on the couch, thinking of his nephew doing the same in his room, pushed to the edge just from kneeling and touching his feet.

Souji looked more and more desperate every time he got to his feet and left the room but kept his mouth shut, apparently thinking it was Dojima’s call if they should take another step or not.

And Dojima kept holding back, partly because they needed time, but partly because he _could_. He could make Souji this way, shaky and desperate and it was such a goddamn hot sight he couldn’t help himself, despite shame burning like wildfire in his chest. But when that twisted little pleasure after some time turned into something like pity, he finally decided to just let things play out as they happened.

That night the massage he got was glorious. Souji’s skilled fingers worked magic on his feet, easing every tiny bit of tension there was and finishing it off with just the pads of his thumbs sliding over one sole over and over and over, making Dojima groan and sigh in pleasure and having to struggle hard to snap out of hazy bliss when Souji cleared his throat and stilled his fingers.

“There... How’s that?” Despite the deep voice sounding steady, albeit breathless, Dojima could feel his nephew’s hands tremble.

“Good. Thank you.”

When Souji put Dojima’s foot down a moment later and wiped his palms over his thighs, he looked up at him with an almost pleading look on his face. “Dojima-san, I should go to my room and—”

Dojima straightened up, letting his eyes slide from slightly tousled hair and red cheeks down to the prominent bulge in gray uniform pants. He weighed things over in his mind for a second before lifting his foot and planting it straight on top of Souji’s cock, pushing lightly. The sharp gasp it produced sent a thrill down his spine. “To take care of this?” He pushed a little harder and could see Souji dig his fingers into his thighs, probably fighting back the urge to thrust back.

“Y—yeah…”

“Why don’t you do it right here?” Dojima rubbed his foot against Souji, slowly sliding it up and down before pressing his heel against where he guessed the head of Souji’s cock would be. He was rewarded with another gasp.

“Do—Dojima-san?” Souji’s hands slid hesitantly up his thighs, as if he was waiting for proper permission to touch himself.

A sense of _power_ spread in Dojima, setting his nerves on fire but cooling his head. He had Soujii—and his pleasure—in the palm of his hand. He could allow him or deny him and he was pretty sure Souji would obey and if that wasn’t a heady feeling, he didn’t know what was. “Here…” He slid his foot down between Souji’s spread legs, hooking it under his ass and urging him to come closer. Souji took the hint and shuffled forward best he could on his knees, until his crotch was in full contact with Dojima’s shin. “Use this.”

Souji looked up at him; confusion and hesitation written on his face, making Dojima nearly roll his eyes. It was an adorable sight, arousing as fuck, but still—it couldn’t be that hard to get what he meant. He flexed the leg trapped between Souji’s thighs a little, lifted an eyebrow.

And then Souji got the point, and he blushed so hard Dojima was worried for a second he’d faint. He sat absolutely still for a moment, mortified, before finally hesitantly rolling his hips, rubbing up closer against Dojima.

“That’s it…”

Souji repeated the move, a little more confident this time. He bit down on his bottom lip and leaned forward, bracing himself with a hand on Dojima’s thigh. A moan escaped him the next time he thrust forward and soon it was a stream of poorly held back little noises as he rode Dojima’s leg.

 _Like a dog,_ Dojima thought. He found himself unable to look away from Souji’s face, from the perfect combination of shame and arousal, and it hit him how much this weird, fucked up little thing of theirs taught him about his own sexuality—his turn ons and needs. He supposed he could dig into it, fully analyze what made him tick, but he knew going down that road would force him to scrutinize what he was actually doing to his nephew, and the fact it was his goddamn _nephew_ in the first place, and that just couldn’t happen. Not now, not when he had said nephew straddling his leg and whining like a puppy, leaking so heavily Dojima could feel it start to dampen the fabric of his own pants. It just felt far too good, looked far too good, fed far too much into dark parts of him that had slumbered until now.

“God, Dojima-san…” Souji sounded as if he had trouble breathing, only managing shallow, scratchy panting as he worked his hips in a broken, almost desperate rhythm.

Dojima put his hand on Souji’s head, digging his fingers into his scalp and scratching for a moment, before grabbing a handful of hair—not tugging, just closing his fist tight in it, knowing it would be appreciated. “You look good like this, Souji.” He bent down, gently tilted Souji’s head back and looked him straight in the eye. “Come for me.”

Souji let out a high keening noise and convulsed in Dojima’s grip. When he jerked again, rubbing up so hard against Dojima he was pushed further back into the couch, he found his proper voice and gasped Dojima’s name, then kept repeating it as he came.

“God, Dojima-san, oh _yes_ , Dojima-san. Please, please Do-ji-ma-san, so _good…_ ”

“Good…” _Dog? Girl?_ “…boy.” Dojima hesitated, seeing how vulnerable Souji looked when lost in pleasure, sexy as hell but completely naked. He was starting to realize what amount of responsibility lay in the role he’d taken. If he were to reduce Souji to this, he was the one who had to bring him back to his confident self afterwards. “You look… so pretty like this, Souji.” He released his grip in Souji’s hair and instead raked his fingers through it, over and over, his heart clenching at the sight of Souji trying to catch his breath, his hips still jerking unevenly, the fingers digging into Dojima’s thighs slowly straightening out. “Thanks for letting me see that. I… appreciate it.”

Souji opened his eyes and met his uncle’s gaze, pupils still blown and long lashes glued together by a stray tear or two. He did look pretty…and exhausted. “What about you, Dojima-san? Let me…” He reached for Dojima’s belt, but was stopped by a firm grip.

“I’m good. Don’t worry about it.”

“But…”

“Next time, Souji. Go wash up, go to bed.” Dojima let Souji’s hands go and straightened up on the couch. “You look like you could need some sleep.”

At that Souji smiled. “Yeah... I think I maybe do.” He slid back on the floor and unsteadily got to his feet, wiping the front of his pants as if trying to remove the stain, but instead rubbing it in deeper. He wrinkled his nose a little and looked down to check the damage.

“Drop ‘em in the hamper, I’ll take care of it while you shower.” Dojima met Souji’s smile before looking down at his own pants, ignoring his erection and instead focusing on the dark spot on the leg. “Need to wash these as well.”

Souji snorted quietly, his version of a chuckle. “I’m sorry about that. I can take care of it if—”

Dojima help up a hand. “No, I got it. Now get going. It’s way past your bedtime anyways.”

Souji stood there for a while, hesitating, as if he wanted to argue some more or maybe lean down for a goodnight kiss. He settled for the tiniest of bows, just a tilt of the head. “Goodnight, Dojima-san.”

“’Night, kid.”

When Souji headed up the stairs, Dojima could see him wobble slightly. It made him grin and frown at the same time. He’d walked a fine line between treating Souji as a lover ( _toy_ , a voice in the back of his head added) and a teen in his care and he had no idea if he’d actually managed the feat. But at least Souji had smiled. It would have to do.

 

oOo


	3. It'll be fine

Souji is standing by the kitchen counter cutting vegetables.

Dojima is sitting by the table, a case file forgotten in his hands, all his focus on his nephew who’s humming to himself, swaying his hips the tiniest bit to the melody, making the straps of the apron he’s wearing sway a little as well. He can’t stop staring.

He’s hard. He’s been hard for quite a while; it seems to happen automatically these days when he’s home alone with Souji—and he sits with the knowledge he could do pretty much anything he wanted to Souji right now and the kid would go along with it happily.

He could tell him to crawl under the table and take his cock out and give him one of those blowjobs he’s so good at, the ones where the head of Dojima’s cock actually slips into his throat and he swallows around it, making wet little clicking noises and not even trying to breathe. Dojima, despite being in his forties now, comes in minutes when Souji does that.

Or he could just step up behind Souji where he’s standing, shove the cutting board to the side, bend him over the counter and—No. Not fuck him, no. Dojima _wants_ to so bad his balls ache but it just wouldn’t be right. When the time is right he’ll bring Souji to his room—the one place in the house besides his daughter’s room they have yet to defile in some way. Yeah, he’ll bring Souji to his bed and although he’s said he’ll fuck him, he won’t. He’ll make love to him. No matter how dirty or crude or sloppy their little sessions are now, he’ll show Souji how it feels to have a lover focusing all his attention on him, paying attention to every little part of him, from his toes to the crown of his skull, before pushing into him and giving him the orgasm of his life.

Dojima had called it their wedding night. Just thinking of it that way makes his balls ache even more, along with his heart. It’s all so wrong, and he wants to do everything he can to make it as right as it can possibly be.

And when he’s done that, when he’s made love to Souji— _then_ he wants to fuck him. From behind. So hard Souji’s teeth rattle. And he wants Souji to ride him. He wants to see those perfect bangs turn messy as Souji bounces on his lap. He wants Souji to come all over his stomach and chest and he wants him to lap it up afterwards while he’s crouching over him and there’s come leaking down his thighs and—

Souji throws a glance over his shoulder, probably feeling Dojima’s eyes burning a hole in his back. He cuts Dojima’s thoughts off with that sweet, wife-y little smile he’s started to wear in Dojima’s presence. When his lips aren’t rounded into an ‘o’ as he moans, that is, or when they’re not stretched around Dojima’s cock and what the fuck is wrong with him today? Why can’t he just break all the maddening thoughts of his nephew off and focus on the papers in his hand?

But how the hell could _anyone_ expect him to do that when the corner of Souji’s mouth curl into a feline little smirk, one saying ‘ _like what you see?_ ’ and, really, that’s all Dojima can take.

He gets to his feet and is behind Souji in a heartbeat, wrapping his arms tight around him and telling him to drop the knife and Souji does it without protest, gently putting it down to the side before tilting his head back to lean on Dojima’s shoulder, already breathing faster.

“You look so hot in your little apron,” Dojima murmurs, his lips brushing Souji’s cheek and the shaky sigh he receives in reply is all the consent he needs to slide his hands down to Souji’s hips. He holds them still as he moves his own, grinding against Souji’s ass to let him know how hard he is, and this is new...

They’ve talked about fucking. A lot. He’s teased Souji to orgasm just from talking and adding the tiniest bit of physical stimulation, but he’s never shown Souji he wants it. Not this way. Not grinding against him while nipping at his jaw.

For a second Dojima is convinced he’ll come like this. Not from the stimulation, but from how Souji offers himself up, moaning and doing his best to defy Dojima’s vice grip on his hips and grind back against him. The kid wants it so bad. So bad. And that need is what almost drives Dojima to the edge.

He’s barely aware of his hands slipping from Souji’s hips to his front, his fingers working the button fly of Souji’s jeans open, his thumbs hooking into both boxer briefs and pants and tugging them down to mid-thigh. He doesn’t stop to consider what he’s doing until he’s run a hand up Souji’s erection and he’s got precome all over his palm.

Souji is whispering something, probably repeating Dojima’s name. Dojima loves it when he does, loves the reverence and desperate arousal in his voice, but along with the love a wave of shame follows, for allowing his nephew to all but worship him like this. Dojima has a steady stomach-ache these days, despite Souji being there and making sure he takes his ulcer meds every morning.

As he fists Souji’s cock, he focuses on his words and no, Souji isn’t whispering his name, he’s whispering ‘fuck me’ over and over and, fuck, the kid will be the death of him one day.

He slides his hand down to cup Souji’s balls instead, squeezing to the point of pain, to the point where Souji goes quiet and sort of limp in his grip. “Not gonna fuck you today, Souji…” he says. But he needs to grind—he needs to take his cock out and fuck _something_ and it’s then he realizes what he’ll do. “Not like that, at least.” He lets Souji go and takes half a step back, works his belt and pants open as he takes in Souji’s naked ass, framed by the apron, and his slim thighs. Yeah, those thighs… They’ll do. “Hands on the counter.”

Souji obeys, he always does, and Dojima slides his pants and underwear all the way down, steps out of one leg but lets the other stay bunched around his ankle. He tugs Souji’s jeans down a little more, down to his knees, trapping his legs together tightly and if he had a camera right now he’d have a memory card full of pictures of what’s in front of him, because the scene is so dirty it makes his cock _throb._

 __He presses up against Souji again, his cock sliding between the cheeks of Souji’s ass and the moan Souji lets out is so deep Dojima feels it vibrate against his chest. He works his hips, slow controlled rolls, loving how soft the skin of Souji’s thighs is against his own, how Souji arches his back without having to be told, and offers himself up.

He plants one hand on the counter next to Souji’s, grabs him again with the other, firm strokes up the shaft, each one leading to slick liquid trickling down his knuckles (the kid leaks like a _faucet_ when he’s turned on) and he keeps doing it until his hand is all but coated before letting Souji’s cock go again and feeling a shiver run down his spine as Souji gasps at the loss of contact.

Dojima smears his cock with the mess. It’s enough to coat it from base to crown, enough to make it nearly drip. What’s left he wipes off between Souji’s thighs, forcing his hand between them and sliding it back and forth a couple of times before pulling free.

Souji calls his name, hesitation obvious in his voice. He wants to ask Dojima what he’s about to do but is not quite sure the question will be appreciated. Dojima knows that note in his voice well. He thinks it’s sweet—almost pathetic in its submission, but sweet, and he smiles a little as he leans forward to rest his chin on Souji’s shoulder, shushing him softly while angling his cock and tilting his hips.

“Keep your legs together.”

Souji understands then and nods, and Dojima can feel the muscles in his thighs flex as he slips between them, grinding against Souji’s ass for a moment before pulling back again.

“A little tighter, baby.”

He has no idea of where the nickname came from but it feels right on his tongue and he doesn’t regret it. Especially not when Souji whimpers and bucks in his grip before letting out a breathy ‘Yes, Dojima-san.’ and squeezing his legs together, so tight the friction is just _perfect_ the next time Dojima rolls his hips.

He curls his hands around Souji’s hips, down where they meet his thighs, and he pushes as if helping Souji keep his legs together and it works. Souji works even harder; Dojima can feel the tremble in his cock and he groans against Souji’s neck and starts thrusting.

It’s not like fucking an ass, or a sweet, tight pussy, but it’s close enough for Dojima to keep pumping his hips. The feeling of the head of his cock bumping into Souji’s balls as he tilts his hips a little more adds to it, in the end making it an experience of its own instead of a substitute and he keeps groaning, a flood of sweet little names mixed with filth escaping his mouth and driving his nephew wild. Dojima has heard Souji lose himself in pleasure several times before, but he’s never heard him like this. There’s no shame in his moans, no humiliation, no hesitation, and Dojima wonders how the hell Souji will sound when he finally fucks him—makes love to him—for real. Trying to imagine it nearly makes him come.

To take his mind of it, he shushes Souji again, tells him to take it easy, and makes it so very, very hard for him to do that because at the same time he slides his hand over Souji’s cock—on the outside of the apron this time. The stiff fabric must chafe against flushed and sensitive skin but Souji just groans into the hand he’s slapped over his mouth to keep his noises from spilling out.

Dojima squeezes the shaft through the fabric, staring over Souji’s shoulder as he does and smiling at the sight. He’ll have to have Souji cook wearing nothing but that apron sometime in the future, just so he can fuck him on the kitchen table while he looks like this. He suspects it would be glorious.

Souji’s orgasm comes as a surprise, apparently even to himself. His yelp is sharp and loud even through the barrier of his hand and he bucks in Dojima’s grip while swearing like a sailor and clenching his ass and thighs so hard it makes Dojima gasp. It ends with a drawn-out guttural growl and him jerking away from the firm grip around his cock, the fabric now probably unbearable against the head, and back into the cradle of Dojima’s hips, drawing a grunt from him.

Dojima takes the hint and lets go of Souji, the sight and sound and feeling and _smell_ of his nephew coming fuelling his desire to finish as well and he drives his cock between Souji’s tightly clenched thighs (kept together even when he can barely stand—such a good fucking boy) and the head keeps bumping against Souji’s tightly drawn sac and it only takes a minute for Dojima to come as well, smacking his forehead against Souji’s shoulder blade as he hunches down with a strangled shout and coats the insides of his thighs.

It takes at least a minute for Dojima to catch his breath; a minute of eyes clenched shut and his face rubbing against Souji’s back, lips pressing against cotton damp from sweat, leaving little kisses behind; a minute of his hips trembling, occasionally jerking, and fingers digging into Souji’s hips so hard it makes him squirm; a minute before he lets go and straightens up and takes a step back and swears quietly as he stares at what’s in front of him. He can’t believe his luck, can’t believe his misfortune. Not when Souji shuffles around to face him, supporting himself against the counter, and _smiles_ and Dojima knows this kid is one in a million, too good to be true and the one thing in life he wants most that he can’t have.

His stomach aches more than usual but he meets Souji’s smile with a crooked one of his own and steps closer, pressing his lips to his forehead and burying a hand in his hair, and he decides to keep pretending everything’s ok. There’s a dinner that needs to be finished, his daughter will be home in an hour or so and Souji’s got homework to do. Everything’s ok.

Souji brings fingers he’s slid between his thighs up to his mouth and licks them clean. Everything’s as it should be.

Dojima tightens his hand in Souji’s hair and tilts his head back sharply, feeling a shaky moan vibrate against his lips as he kisses his Adam’s apple. Everything will work out just fine.

oOo


End file.
